Of Queens and Priests
by Umeko
Summary: A diplomatic visit and AX find themselves crossdressing. What hiliarity can ensue with our guys and a clueless Petros?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters DO NOT belong to me. Strictly speaking, I am not sure whether my characters can even be considered canon. Beware of OOC-ness.

Hugue in a dress. Need I say more?

**Of Queens and Priests**

_0900h, corridor outside Cardinal Caterina's office_

"Father de Watteau located. Escorting him over as instructed," Tres droned as he forced Hugue to his feet. Hugue scowled and struggled against the iron grip of the android. To add insult to injury, Dandelion was leaning against a pillar at the far end of the corridor, trying hard not to laugh.

_Dirty traitor,_ Hugue glared venom at Father Abel. "I'm sorry, so sorry… didn't know you were hiding in the linen closet…" The bespectacled priest apologized profusely. The apologies faded away as the android escorted a fuming Hugue into the Cardinal's office. Caterina peered at Hugue over the laced fingers propping up her chin. This was awkward. Truth be told, she hardly blamed him for trying to run from this assignment. Still, Hugue has to do it as no one else could. It was Hugue who broke the silence.

"Your Grace, I absolutely refuse to wear a dress! Please get someone else to do it."

"Sorry, Hugue. There is only one person in AX who matches the physical built of Queen Lilika of Icelandia. That person is you." Caterina closed her eyes in momentary thought. If she played her cards right, not only would the Church regain a foothold in the mostly pagan Icelandia and distant Northwest, she would also gain a staunch supporter against her brother Francesco.

The Queen was well-loved in Icelandia. Lilika was not only a queen, but a warrior, having taken the reins of power at the age of fourteen and united the fragmented Icelandic tribes and clans within five years. Her people sang ballads of her prowess with a spear on the battlefield, how a spear flung by her could travel clean across the vast field of battle and still pierce through armour like a hot knife through butter. There must be some truth to the songs. Lilika had the broadest and most muscular shoulders the cardinal had seen on a woman, which complicated matters.

Queen Lilika was to travel with her small entourage to Rome, attend an audience with the Pope and take in the glorious sights and sounds of the city before returning to her country. All the while, she would be expected to be dogged by Francesco's hounds. There will be one chance to make the switch. The Queen would be whisked off from the Papal palace to Caterina's mansion, while her double took the tour of Rome.

"Sorry, Hugue. There is no room for argument. I have decided that you will be accompanied by your loyal maidservants…" Protests sounded outside the door. Tres strolled in and casually deposited a livid Father Leon on the carpet. Father Abel trotted worriedly after them.

"Gentlemen, the Professor will take it from here."

* * *

_1230h, Father William's lab _

"Too bad about Noelle breaking her arm last week. I'm sure this would look great on her... Does this make me look fat?" Leon complained as he whirled about in a sky-blue dress. He posed and studied his well padded rear. His face was clean-shaven and his hair tied back under a large hat with white ostrich feathers. Abel was dressed in a pink gown with velvet ribbons. He had forgone his glasses.

"No," William reassured Leon as he adjusted a stray ribbon in Abel's hair. "More to the left, Willie," Kate instructed. Too bad holograms could not move objects. Abel had his hair braided up in a bun. "I think I may need more of the rouge," Abel asked as he studied the picture of the woman whose part he was to play. Though temporarily incapacitated, Noelle had managed to rustle up as close matches to the women's clothes and accessories as she could get at short notice.

"Go easy on the makeup, Abel. We don't want to overdo it. The voice adapters I have fitted under your pearl collars should make you sound like women," William explained. "We'll switch them on, after we're done putting this, erm, padding on our queen…" He approached a scowling Hugue cautiously.

"I am not wearing a pearl collar…" Hugue complained. "Isn't that overdoing it?" He looked askew at the padding on the corset.

"No. I have it on good authority Her Majesty is a size F plus," Kate added. William stoically tied the padded corset onto Hugue. "Besides, you wouldn't need the adaptor. Her Majesty's a natural baritone. His Sanctity and Queen Lilika should be finishing up soon. Let's hurry up with the dress and go…"

* * *

_1315h, Main steps of the Papal palace_

The disguised trio waited for their carriage and the tour of Rome. Barely minutes earlier, the Queen of Icelandia and her ladies were escorted by Father Vaclav Havel to the side door of the palace where a closed carriage waited to take them to the Duchess of Milan. Hugue fumbled with his get-up. The royal headgear was heavy and studded with rare stones, or in Hugue's case, coloured glass. His gown was more elaborate than his servants'. It was a hot day. The fur trimmings at the wrists and neck were getting itchy.

Abel managed to look quite dainty as he fanned himself with a feathered fan. Suddenly, he went pale. "Hugue, Leon, look…" he pointed with his fan. An open carriage had stopped at the foot of the stairs. It was flanked by Inquisition guards and holding the reins of the milky-white steeds was none other than Sister Paula. Brother Petros rode on a brown horse alongside the carriage. Cardinal Francesco had definitely called on his best for Queen Lilika's visit.

"Man, tell me it is not so," Leon blanched, then went red. "I'll never live this down…" he gasped quietly. Petros dismounted and strolled purposefully up the steps. He was not pleased that the Cardinal Francesco had seen it fit to use his men in this manner. Escorting foreign diplomats about town when they could be busy killing vampires in Morocco indeed! Still, orders were orders.

"You Highness, I am at your service," he bowed politely before the disguised Hugue. "Allow me to escort you through our Holy City…." Hugue kept his face impassive. Without a word, he stepped past Petros in a swish of skirts and blond braids. His 'ladies' hurriedly followed.

Watching above from the Iron Maiden, Sister Kate groaned. Of all the escorts Francesco had to call on, it had to be Petros and Paula. Hopefully, the tour would pass without event and Petros will send the trio to the airfield without finding out about the swap.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

In case anyone is wondering why Esther is not in on this, this is set pre-Istvan. Esther has not yet joined the AX team.

I was wondering how Hugue's sister would look like when I had a vivid image of Hugue in a dress. Eek.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters DO NOT belong to me. Strictly speaking, I am not sure whether my characters can even be considered canon. Beware of OOC-ness.

What trouble could our cross-dressing blokes stir up? Let's find out.

* * *

**Knights and Ladies**

"Let's go then," Leon squeaked enthusiastically thanks to his voice adaptor. "Oops!" He tripped on his skirt on the last step and fell smack on his bottom. Abel stifled a gasp of horror. Leon's skirts have ridden up to reveal a pair of hairy legs clad in the priests' boots they all wore. Noelle had been unable to find ladies' boots in Leon's and Hugue's size at short notice. Abel himself had foregone ladies' footwear after failing to master the art of balancing in six inch heels. After all, their skirts were long enough to drag on the floor.

"A-allow me, ma'am," a furiously-blushing Petros smattered and extended a helping hand to Leon. The sight of those frilly petticoats was quite enough. He did not appear to notice the hairy legs under them. "Dearie me, what a kind man you are for an Inquissie dog," Leon replied as he pulled himself up with Petros' help. Petros frowned. Surely he must have misheard her. Maybe she was speaking some Icelandian dialect.

"Well, let's go see the Holy City," Abel clapped his hands daintily. Hugue stifled a yawn. Hugue never really liked Rome. He hardly spent time there, or anywhere else in particular. Still, he arranged his spreading skirts and sat down demurely in the carriage. Abel and Leon joined him, carefully picking their skirts up so as not to trip on the hem.

They said Icelandian women were large. Petros thought it was the understatement of the century. The dark-complexioned Duchess Broja was large, with huge hands for a woman. The frilly blue dress and feathered sunhat looked out of place on her. She kept simpering behind her silk fan in an oddly disturbing way. Lady Emba was tall, pale and more slender than her companion. She showed a somewhat child-like sense of wonder at the sights of Rome as they trundled along. Petros allowed himself a sideways glance at her face. A bit too long for her to be a classical beauty, but the effect of those long eyelashes made up for it.

Queen Lilika, seated between her ladies, had shoulders as broad as an ox. Her headdress jingled dangerously as they trundled through the streets. Several times, she or one of her ladies have been forced to steady it with a hand. The queen had the chiselled features of a saint or angel so favoured by the Roman sculptors. She was huge in more than one way. Petros' gaze inevitably landed on that very ample bosom which seemed to be bursting out of her gold-embroidered bodice. Muttering a hasty prayer for forgiveness, he looked away.

"I think he digs you," Leon whispered. He could not resist a chance to tease his morose companion. "Ow!" Hugue stomped on Leon's foot hard in reply. "Quit it," Abel gasped. They were flanked by Inquisition on both sides of the carriage. Having their cover blown was the last thing they wanted. The basilica loomed ahead, the first stop on their tour of Rome. Abel fished out a camera. They needed to act like tourists, or at least get some nice photos for the real Queen Lilika.

* * *

"Sorry, your Ladyship. No photo taking in the basilica," the guard at the basilica's door said.

"Pretty please? Just one photo," Abel fluttered his eyelashes coquettishly. "Couldn't you make an exception this once?"

"Sorry. The regulation states that no cameras…"

"The regulations state that exceptions may be allowed with His Sanctity's permission. I have it on good authority that as honoured guests of Pope Alessandro XVIII, these ladies are allowed to enjoy the basilica and that includes taking photos of its beauty," Petros cut in. The guard blanched. "Yessir!"

He stepped aside to allow Abel a wonderful shot of the famous Last Supper fresco. "Thank yyooouuu!" Abel happily gave Petros a hug before snapping merrily away. Hugue chose to ignore his companions' antics. _See the basilica, check._

* * *

Half an hour after, in the Vatican art museum…

The royal entourage strolled through the halls, gazing at works by the likes of Michelangelo and Raphael. Their only guards, Petros and Paula, brought up the rear. A sweet-faced young nun was their guide and Leon made a little game of teasing her by discussing the art. The sister was surprised the Icelandian duchess has such a good command of Latin, as her own knowledge of Icelandic was only a smattering. Leon also entertained her with highly imaginative tales of the epic battles the Queen waged before finally uniting the clans. Even Paula seemed interested in Leon's outlandish tales.

"We were riding through the bandits. Whacking left and right with our war axes. And Her Majesty, she stood up in the saddle and flung her spear. WHAM! Through the rock and through the gut of that no-good scum of a bandit chief." Leon slapped his thigh in a very unladylike way.

"Ooh!" The young sister held both hands in her cheeks in amazement. She stole a secretive glance at the legendary queen and thought it a pity Queen Lilika had no brothers or male cousins. She was sure her kinsmen would be strong and brave. She blushed furiously. Thankfully, the queen appeared to be engrossed in a sculpture of Pope Alessandro X.

"Lady Emba too?" Surely the tall slender noblewoman would not be swinging any war axes…

"Nah, Lady Emba's a scholar. Not much use for the battlefield," Leon waved her aside.

* * *

"I need to go to the washroom…" Abel suddenly tugged at Hugue's sleeve. "Now?" Hugue grated and bit back a very un-regal curse. "You can go yourself."

"Huguueee," Abel whined in protest. "The washrooms here are dark, creepy and haunted."

"Petros! Lady Emba needs to use the washroom. Will you be so kind as to accompany her?" Hugue hurriedly called out. Petros rolled his eyes helplessly. Him! Waiting outside the Vatican Museum washroom while a lady powders her nose inside… the indignity of it…

"Sister Paula, please…"

"Yes sir," Paula's mouth twitched up at the corners. Petros never looked so bothered. Somehow, it made him look more, well, human. And more handsome…

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Will Abel blow their cover? Sorry if I made the 'ladies' sound like barbarians. I was thinking of Iceland's Viking heritage and the Valkyries when I wrote this. Erik the Red and all that.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters DO NOT belong to me. Strictly speaking, I am not sure whether my characters can even be considered canon. Beware of OOC-ness.

Da-da-dum… The toilet chapter. And some other things...

* * *

**Portraits and Tea**

"I say, what have we here?" Leon fluttered his fan as he caught sight of the museum's newest acquisition: an oil painting of the Duke Medici of Tuscany, Cardinal Francesco. The nerve! The painting had him depicted holding the papal staff and garbed in robes strikingly similar to the papal robes. Instead of a mitre, a saintly halo encircled his head. "A donation from the blessed cardinal Medici," their guide explained meekly.

"Which saint is this?"

The silent queen's question surprised both Petros and the nun. Petros looked at the portrait and cringed. He always thought that painting was in poor taste. The nun stammered. "'I-it is n-no saint, your Grace. It is a portrait of our cardinal Francesco…"

Lilika gave an audible 'hmph' and tapped her fan against the canvas. "You are right that this is no saint. Methinks it is a filthy piece of downright blasphemy against God's saints." The baritone voice echoed in the silent hall, drawing the attention of a troop of choirboys by the famed 'Madonna of the Rocks'. The fan hit the canvas again. This time it punched a neat hole in it, where Francesco's smiling face was. It was a massive improvement, the Inquisition captain had to agree. Obviously, the choir found it immensely amusing and barely muffled chortles were heard.

"Your Grace is most wise," the Duchess bowed. A mischievous twinkle came to his eye. "Now this piece needs to be mended, do you agree it should be put away, let's say, somewhere where the sun doesn't shine? Be a dear and take it down. You don't expect a lady to move such a heavy frame, do you?"

* * *

"Sorry to trouble you, Miss…" Abel simpered. Paula was escorting him in the direction of the supposedly haunted washrooms.

"Please, it is no trouble. Do feel free to take your time," Paula stole a glance at where poor Petros was struggling with Francesco's larger than life portrait. Her captain could use a helping hand…

Abel hesitated and stared at the two doors before him. One said 'GENTS' and had a small bas relief of a bearded man. The other one said 'LADIES' and was accompanied accordingly with a blond woman. Which door should he take? The fear of ghosts had been supplanted by the urgent need of his bladder. He took a deep breath and…

"Your Ladyship, that's…" Sister Paula's voice died off in mid-sentence. Lady Emba, Secretary to Queen Lilika the Valkryie of Icelandia, has gone into the Gents. She struggled with herself. Should she go after the Lady to point out her mistake? Or did the Icelandians use unisex washrooms?

How do women manage with so many petticoats and skirts? Abel fumbled with the skirts of his dress and hitched them up to his waist. He didn't want to get them wet. Noelle would positively kill him if he ruined that expensive silk. Now for the urinal. Aahhhh… Sweet relief…. The unbearable pressure on his bladder eased slowly but surely. To his horror, he realized a young choirboy was peeing at the next urinal, and staring at him. Abel peed on his own shoes.

"Oops, this isn't the Ladies, isn't it?" Abel paled. Talk about humiliating. The bewildered boy slowly nodded and pulled up his pants. Feeling like some pervert, Abel cautiously backed out of the washroom.

* * *

Teatime was at Rome's best alfresco café. Tittering, Duchess Broja and Lady Emba sat down and were soon placing massive orders of tea cakes and scones. Queen Lilika rolled her eyes at her companions' show of gluttony. She demurely picked at an orange meringue and sipped at her tea. Hugue never really liked sweet food or observed teatime. Captain Petros allowed his men a break to rest in the shade while he and Sister Paula sat at a table a respectable distance behind their esteemed Icelandian visitors.

"How many cubes, milady?" the waitress asked Lady Emba. "Thirteen, please!" Abel replied merrily.

"Thirteen?" the waitress asked. "Yes!" Abel squealed. Petros raised an eyebrow.

"Mmm-mmf-mmf!" the Duchess mumbled through mouthfuls of tea cake. "What Lady Emba means is three cubes…" Queen Lilika interjected as she gave her hapless companion a pointed look. "Yes, three…" Abel sighed. His 13 cubes habit was a dead giveaway in Rome. The waitress dutifully plopped three cubes into Lady Emba's teacup.

The duchess started choking on her scone. She stood up turning a shade of purple and started tearing at her pearl collar. Her hat fell to the sidewalk and was promptly trampled by its owner. The no-nonsense queen threw her brawny arms around the victim's waist and executed a perfect Heimlich manoeuvre. The offending piece of half-chewed pie popped out onto the table along with…

"Oh my god…" Abel watched in horror as the piece of padding which was the duchess' left breast bounced onto the sidewalk. Before Abel could react, the piece of foam rolled through an open drainage grate and into Rome's storm sewer. Leon's face had regained his natural colour in the meantime. "Gee, thanks…" he clapped his hand over his mouth when his voice came out in its regular tone. _Damn!_ He must have broken the voice adaptor. And his bodice felt definitely emptier. Abel seized a few puffs and rammed them down the front of Leon's dress before their chaperons noticed.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" Paula asked as she hurried over. "Just hunky-dory," Leon managed a passable falsetto. He tried to ignore the cream oozing down his chest and navel.

Hugue stole a glance at the clock. A quarter past four. _Hallelujah and praise be to God. _The end of their ordeal was in sight.

Clearing his throat he addressed those present. "On behalf of my people and country, I thank you for your hospitality. However, we must really get to the airfield as our flight would be leaving soon at half-past four. He managed a smile befitting the queen of Icelandia.

"Yes, Your Highness. This way please…" Petros escorted them to the waiting carriage. "Thank you," Lady Emba sang out as she stuffed a few more tartlets into her mouth. The duchess was silent. She cut a sorry figure with her trampled hat on her head and cream staining her dress. The sympathetic Lady Emba guided her by the elbow. There was no conversation between their guests on the way to the airfield.

**Author's Notes: **

Probably one last chapter before I free our lads from their ordeal.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters DO NOT belong to me. Strictly speaking, I am not sure whether my characters can even be considered canon. Beware of OOC-ness.

I am reluctant to post this one up, as it would mean the end of this fic. Still, all good things must end. It is high time to get Hugue and company out of their dresses and put them out of their misery, no?

**Adieu to Her Majesty **

The airship was already waiting at the airfield when the tired horses trotted through the gates. "Ah, thank you," Hugue thanked Petros with an uncharacteristic eagerness as he almost leapt from the carriage and bounded up the steps and into the cool interior of the airship. The ladies-in-waiting followed suit. All semblance of regal décor was discarded. His duties discharged, though somewhat abruptly, Petros ordered his men back to the Inquisition barracks.

As agreed, Father William was waiting for them on board with a change of clothes in a laundry bag. "Change and then get off. Her Grace would be arriving with the Queen's entourage in about twenty minutes," William warned as he handed them their priestly garments. "I'll be waiting for you at the airfield's café." He cautiously disembarked. The men needed no further urging.

"Man, it sure feels good to be out of that!" Leon let out a chuckle of sheer joy as he dumped his feathered hat and cream-smeared dress onto the cabin floor. "Don't, you'll stain the carpet!" Abel hurriedly snatched up the garments and crammed the lot into a laundry bag.

"Now get me out of this thing!" Leon reached for the hooks of his corset. Abel obliged. Together the trio helped each other change out of their costumes…

* * *

Father William sipped at his tea and glanced fleetingly at his pocket watch. _Ten more minutes… _Plenty of time for the lads to quit the scene before the royal party arrived.

"Father William, where are the boys?" Her arm in a cast, Sister Noelle Bor walked up to his table. The Albionian's eyebrow twitched when he saw what she was holding in her good hand.

"Noelle… that is…"

"Oh, there was a rip in his cassock and pants, so I took the liberty of mending Hugue's clothes. So where's Hugue?" Noelle batted her eyelashes almost flirtatiously. "Have they not arrived yet?" Before Father William could reply, the holographic Sister Kate appeared before them.

"Her Grace is on her way with Queen Lilika, I trust they… what is wrong, William?"

Father William glanced at his pocket watch, then at the café's wall clock. To his horror, the priest realized that the wall clock was happily ticking its way to five o'clock while his pocket watch was frozen at ten minutes to five. "By the beard of St George!" With a rare curse, the priest leapt to his feet, knocking over the café's table in the process. He snatched the cassock from Noelle and sprinted as fast as he could towards the waiting airship across the field.

Father Vaclav was pulling up at the gate with their Icelandian guests and the Duchess of Milan.

* * *

_Inside the airship…_

"What do you mean my clothes are not there?" Stripped to his underpants, Hugue peered into the mess of dresses and assorted feminine accessories in the laundry bag Abel held. "Sorry, Hugue… I think someone left out yours," Abel whined. Hugue glared at him, muscles rippling… Father William was going to pay for his oversight…

"Out quick! The Queen… oh my!" Sister Kate flickered into view in the cabin and immediately turned crimson on seeing Hugue's sculpted physique. "T-the Queen is arriving…" the blushing hologram vanished.

"You could wear Leon's top…" Abel suggested. "As much as I wouldn't mind baring my chest on the airfield, I'm sure Hugue would find it tough baring his teeny-whiteys…" Leon started to slide out of his top. They still needed bottoms for Hugue.

A gasp interrupted their conversation. Standing at the cabin door was a horrified Cardinal Caterina, and her somewhat astounded foreign guests. Father William pounded up the stairs. "Hugue, your clothes… oh, my merciful Lord…" he was too late. Hugue was standing in his briefs before their esteemed guests. Abel was holding the laundry bag of ladies' garments while Leon had one sleeve of his top off.

Lady Emba immediately clapped her hands to her face in horror and shock and averted her eyes with a soft shriek. Duchess Broja looked thoughtful as she studied Leon with avid interest. Queen Lilika was impassive as a marble statute. The cardinal struggled to find a way of dealing with this gaffe. It was the duchess who broke the stalemate.

"Say, nice biceps," the large swarthy-skinned woman sidled up to Leon and placed a gloved hand on his arm. Her eyes glinted with dark mischief. "Er, I'm flattered, your Grace…" Leon stammered at the surprise attention. "How about we get to know each other better? I'm sure half an hour should be sufficient…" Leon gasped as the duchess drew closer to him, her hand caressing his jaw.

"Sorry, your Grace, but I'm afraid I don't do one-night stands. Priestly oaths you know…" Leon never thought he would be so glad of his priestly badge. The duchess pouted darkly but backed off. Hugue was pulling on the clothes that Father William had finally managed to get to him.

Queen Lilika was whispering to Cardinal Caterina in between glancing at Hugue. The cardinal appeared slightly flustered. "That is unusual, I must admit… but I'll see if it can be arranged…"

* * *

_Two weeks later, Caterina's study. _

"Lord, I never thought I would almost be raped by a woman!" Leon exclaimed as he and Hugue waited for Caterina's entrance. "You were there, Hugue. Tell Caterina it ain't my fault!" Hugue nodded. Duchess Broja did not take kindly to Leon's rebuff and returned a week later to try and persuade him. Unfortunately her irate husband followed. The fiasco at the plaza ended with Leon in the lock-up and his amorous admirer dragged home by her Viking husband.

Caterina entered, closely followed by her loyal Tres.

"Your Grace, what happened in the plaza ain't my fault. She jumped me!"

"Yes, Father Leon. I have seen the eyewitness accounts. Still, you did hit her husband…" Caterina laced her fingers together and leaned forward with her elbows on the table.

"It was self-defence! He was going to split my head with his war-axe!" Leon protested vehemently. "I ain't keen on having my brains bashed to a pulp…"

"You two broke a stained window in the Chapel of All Saints during the fight. The court has ruled that you both will share the cost of repairs. Duke Eriksen has paid the fine but given your current pay, it would be advisable for you to do a short stint of 2 weeks in prison."

"You're killing me! I have three hundred years to go…" Leon groaned. Caterina held up her hand for silence. "Naturally, we will offer you more possible missions to shorten your term… You are dismissed. Do be sure to report to the prison on Tuesday."

Muttering angrily, Leon stormed off. "Tres, you make sure he reports to the prison punctually," Caterina said to her android as an afterthought. "Understood," Tres inclined his head slightly. The cardinal then turned her attention to Hugue

"Father de Watteau, I have called you here to present a proposition to you. Queen Lilika of Icelandia would like to, erm, in her own words… have many stout sons and daughters with you. She is offering you the post of Prince Consort of Icelandia. AX could grant you a discharge from priesthood, as you were never really keen on it to start with. Of course, your agreement to this proposal will forge stronger ties between AX and Iceland…"

The rude crash of shattered glass interrupted the duchess. There was a large gaping hole in her third storey study window. In the courtyard below, a certain blond priest was sprinting resolutely out of the compound past a bewildered Sister Noelle.

"I do believe that is a 'no way over my dead body'," Caterina cleaned her eyeglass. "Affirmative," Tres replied. "Please ask the glaziers in to fix this window tomorrow, Tres. It's an awful draft coming in. I must personally convey my regrets to Queen Lilika regarding her would-be groom," Caterina sighed. _There goes her plan for a treaty with Icelandia._

**Author's Notes:**

That's all folks. Reviews always welcome.


End file.
